Tied Up, hmm?
by cosmical
Summary: One-shot. Takes place the day after "Darkness & Light" but before "Black and White." Cal and Gillian spend a carefree afternoon together and muse over her 'being tied up' comment.


**Just for fun. I do not own Lie to Me blablahaahaha**

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It was a Sunday. Cal checked his watch. He had no purpose to- he knew the time. It was just always this unconscious thing he did when he was nervous. He shouldn't be nervous. He wasn't even nervous enough to realize it himself. He was just a little bit, a tad bit, jittery. Not even jittery, more like excited. Or in a good mood. Gillian was supposed to come over for lunch in about two minutes. Cal loved the days where he didn't have to worry about a case but he could still be with Gillian. He enjoyed her company. He knew she enjoyed his even if she denied it.

Cal walked into the powder room and turned on the light. He was wearing a gray t-shirt and jeans, casual but still reasonable. His mind drifted off to what Gillian would be wearing. He told himself he didn't care what she wore, but deep inside, that was a lie if ever there was one. He wondered if she'd be wearing one of those tighter-fitting dresses that revealed some but left some to the imagination. He wondered if she'd be in pants and a blouse that fit her figure perfectly. He wondered if she'd be just as casual as he was. He was beginning to wonder a little too much about Gillian's clothing when he was interrupted by the echoing noise of the doorbell.

"Oh, it's only you," he joked, walking back into the kitchen. Gillian rolled her eyes and smiled, closing the door herself. She proceeded to take in the look of his house, which was far from neat.

"Where's Emily?" she asked.

"Off at her mom's today, doing some girl stuff- rather boring if you ask me," Cal responded. Gillian smiled again and nodded. Cal stared at her. She was wearing tight-fitting jeans and a red, sleeveless cotton top that looked like it was from the 90s. Her hair was wavy and her face only glimmered with the slightest bit of makeup. She was a stunner, she was.

"You going to take off your shoes, love?" Cal asked. Gillian rolled her eyes.

"You know I prefer to keep them on."

"Yeah, because you don't want to be shorter than me," Cal answered, grinning.

"Fine, if you insist," Gillian replied, trying her best to act exasperated, but Cal could tell she was enjoying this as much as he was. She removed her small black boots that were low and had a mere one or two inch heel.

"That's better. Care for a beer?" Cal asked. Gillian made her way over to the counter.

"Do you have any juice boxes?" she asked.

"What?"

"Juice. In boxes. Juice boxes."

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, you're _37,_ not 7 right?" Cal responded. Gillian laughed.

"I like juice. I'll mix it with the beer, if you're so persistent to get me tipsy."

"I didn't say that."

"No but your face did," she answered. Cal stared at her before laughing.

"Touché Foster, touché." He scurried into the fridge, getting an apple juice carton and a beer and proceeding to mix them together just to her liking.

"Cheers," he exclaimed.

"Cheers," Gillian responded, smiling.

"Hungry?" Cal questioned.

"What are we having?"

"Linguini and shrimp," Cal responded confidently, clearly proud of his meal.

"Sounds good to me," Gillian said.

"Good," Cal answered. He dished out the food, put on a record, and pushed all the magazines and junk off of the table before sitting himself and Gillian down.

"So, are you still worried about Amy and Molly?" Gillian asked, taking a big bite of the pasta. She swallowed, and glared at Cal. He grinned.

"I've learned to deal with your spicy food, Cal, it's not even a trick anymore," she said before taking another bite. Cal waited a minute before saying anything, he just watched her.

"To be honest, we'll just have to see it play out. Besides, that's not really what's been on my mind," he said flirtatiously, looking Gillian up and down like he constantly did.

"Oh really, Cal. Great," she said, trying to hide her utter joy as she took another sip of her juice-beer concoction.

"So, um, love. Tied up, hmm?"

Gillian expressed fear, surprise, and happiness as she had a spit-take with her drink and choked for a minute.

"Cal, again, that was an act," she said, wiping her face with a napkin.

"Love, I'm finding that hard to believe," Cal continued, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

"Look, Cal-"

"You do know I can read faces, right? Just in case you didn't know," Cal interrupted. Gillian laughed, covering her face as she leaned back in her seat to laugh more. That was easily one of Cal's favorites sounds.

"Cal, I told you to leave this to your dreams," she said, chuckling.

Cal knew that was a joke; so he knew he couldn't necessarily say he did actually dream about something along those lines. He couldn't help it. He wanted her in the worst possible way. When he had said that, though, he left out that part about also wanting her in the best possible way, because, well then, his real feelings would be revealed.

"My dreams aren't enough," he whispered huskily, his eyes dancing all over her. Gillian laughed again, getting up and dishing herself more pasta.

"Love, I just want you to admit it. It'd make you feel better."

"Are you a shrink now?" she asked sassily.

"Being around you for seven years you learn a thing or two about the speech pattern of shrinks," he answered.

"Well. Fine," she said. Cal showed genuine surprise for a second.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah. I thought about it, being tied up, once or twice, okay Cal, there. Anything you'd like to share with me about _your _fantasies?"

"Oh, so it's a fantasy and a want?"

"That's not what I-"

"Alright, love," Cal practically doubled over in laughter. Gillian glared at him, but her eyes told a different story.

"Well, when I said you were naughty, I guess I wasn't lying either," Cal commented raunchily. He watched as Gillian reacted with a smile and a shake of the head, but he saw that her eyes dilated the slightest bit and breath sped up slightly.

"Cut it out, Cal," she laughed, pushing him lightly on the shoulder as she picked up her bowl and walked over to the sink. He turned and watched her walk, scanning her entire body, every bone, every curve, and every muscle.

"Foster," he said.

"What?" she said, turning around.

"I knew you weren't the good girl," he said.

"Stop lying," Gillian said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes, and smiled to herself. Little did he know, almost all of her fantasies involved him.


End file.
